The Mole
by Saramund
Summary: Jack discovers just where Sam's mole is - fluff, pure and adulterated. Second and third chapter added for authors pleasure...
1. Default Chapter

"What's this?" His voice whispered across my neck as fingers lightly traced the skin   
  
of my lower back, tickling the hairs upright.  
  
"What?" I shivered in delight, not really paying attention to the context of the   
  
conversation, but rather paying attention to the fact that we were having this   
  
conversation at all. That I was naked. That he was naked. That we were both naked.   
  
In a bed. Together. And I smiled in remembrance of just what had occurred several   
  
hours ago (and at least two more times since then) to get us sans clothes in this bed.  
  
"This scar on your lower back, near your left kidney." He continued the conversation.  
  
"Oh." I shrugged, trying to get my mind back to the present and away from the   
  
delicious memories of the last few hours. "Battle scar."  
  
"From?"  
  
"The war." I replied evasively, an evil grin flitting over my face. He lightly slapped   
  
my butt in rebuke, then continued to trace his fingers over my back.  
  
"Is this the mole?" He asked, finger on a spot just above the right cheek of my   
  
bottom.  
  
"Hmmm?" I was distracted again.   
  
"You know, the mole. The one that no one knows the whereabouts of." His fingers   
  
were tracing it lightly, round and round. I could feel the edge of the nail lightly   
  
scraping my skin, sending yet more shivers down my back bone and making my skin   
  
goose-bump in pleasure.  
  
"Oh. Yeah, I suppose that must be it." Who cared about the damn mole? Just so   
  
long as he kept up that little caress with his fingers. Let's get our priorities straight   
  
here, shall we?  
  
"Huh." He breathed into my neck. I managed to last all of two minutes before my   
  
curiosity overtook my languor.  
  
"Huh, what?" I peered over my shoulder to find him grinning back at me.  
  
"Nothing." He said evasively. I turned over and mock-glared at him. He kept   
  
grinning, ducking down to kiss my lips lightly. I bit his lip gently in punishment, but   
  
from his reaction, I'd miscalculated somewhere. I pulled back quite a while later,   
  
catching my breath and staring into his eyes with a small gentle smile on my face.  
  
"So."  
  
"So."   
  
"Two weeks." He said cryptically. I raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. He smiled   
  
down at me. "It's been two weeks and one date since I retired." I counted back, and   
  
realised he was right. Two weeks ago today, he'd retired. And last night, we'd gone   
  
on our first 'date' date. He'd picked me up from my house, presenting me with a   
  
gorgeous white tulip, and we'd gone out to eat at a small Italian restaurant. Good   
  
food, good wine, and a companion who made my skin tingle and my mind stop – a   
  
truly remarkable feat - made for the most idealic of dates. As can be attested to by the   
  
result. Him. Me. Naked. In his bed, in his house.  
  
"Wow." I whispered, stroking down his whiskered cheek gently.  
  
"Yeah. If you're like this on our first date, you're gonna kill me on the third." He   
  
chuckled, then rolled out of bed before I could retaliate. "One thing's for sure," he   
  
continued, "if you do I'd die a happy man."   
  
The door to the bathroom slid shut as he finished his comment, and I lay back with a   
  
silly grin on my face, settling into the sheets with a small murmur of content. And   
  
started plotting my strategy for our second date. The third would take care of itself.  
  
-fin- 


	2. The Second time

Janet accosted me as I walked to my office. I was already late, arriving well after   
  
0900, much to the amusement of the guards on duty upstairs. I'd scowled in a Major-  
  
like fashion at them (which had caused them to remould their faces into something   
  
that looked slightly more soldierly) and marched past them, flashing my I.D. as I did   
  
so. They didn't move. I'd managed to hold off my 'shit-eating' grin (as Col- no, as   
  
Jack liked to call it) until the doors on the elevator had closed.  
  
When I'd gotten off at my floor, Janet had been waiting. She'd obviously been   
  
pacing back and forth for a while now, considering the glare I received when she saw   
  
me. I smiled in return – nothing was going to kill this buzz. Or at least, if anything   
  
was, it would have to be a world-endangerment event. I almost sobered at that   
  
thought. In my line of work, that could very well happen today. Or any day I was or   
  
wasn't at work.  
  
Without a word, Janet followed me into my office, almost slamming the door shut   
  
behind her before swinging around and glaring at me. I stared back, biting my inner-  
  
cheek to hold in the grin as much as possible.  
  
"Well?" She demanded, stepping towards my desk. I unloaded my laptop and files   
  
onto the clean desk, booting it up as I looked up at Janet.  
  
"Well, what?" I asked, pretending confusion. I got the glare again for my troubles.   
  
That did it, the grin erupted and I sat down on my chair, knees suddenly week.  
  
"You did! Didn't you!" Janet pounced eagerly on my silent confession. I nodded in   
  
reply, a silly giggle erupting from between my lips. Oh god, he'd reduced me to   
  
giggling. He was going to pay for that. "Well? When, how, where, how many?"  
  
"Janet!" I laughed in reply, still feeling a blush rise on my cheeks. "You don't want   
  
to know all of that."  
  
"Like hell I don't. We've been hanging out for this for seven damn years, Samantha   
  
Eloise Carter! Don't deny me my information. Or I'll find some VERY big needles   
  
for your next examination." Janet threatening me was not something I should take   
  
lightly. "Now, give. It was the second date, so something must have happened. I   
  
can't see you waiting too long, let alone the Colonel."  
  
I thought back to the first date, and grinned in reply. Little did she know. Something   
  
and EVERYTHING had pretty much happened the first date. But then, on last night's   
  
second date, we'd added and expanded.   
  
"Sam!" Janet jolted me back into the present.  
  
"Sorry, Janet. You want details from last night? Well, he was picking me up at 1930   
  
hours, as you know. I'd left early," I grinned at her, knowing full well she knew just   
  
how early I'd left, as she'd shooed me off base herself at 1700, "and managed to get   
  
ready before he arrived."  
  
"What did you wear? Did you put that red number on, like I told you?" Janet was   
  
perched on the desk, leaning in and listening avidly. I grinned back at her.  
  
"Yes, I did. That, some strappy black heels that stood at least four inches high,   
  
and…. Mmph. Never mind."  
  
"Sam." Janet glared. I refused to answer. No way was I telling her that the only   
  
underwear I'd word was a garter belt for my stockings. NO WAY.  
  
"Anyway, he turned up at around 1915, early as always. I let him in….." I stopped   
  
talking, taken back to last night.  
  
"Sam! Dinner! How was the restaurant? What did you talk about? God, Sam – give   
  
me details here. I'm living vicariously here, you know." Janet was growling at me. I   
  
shook my head and looked at her, processing what she'd just said belatedly.  
  
"Dinner? Restaurant? I have no idea, Janet." I replied, watching her face carefully   
  
as I said the next sentence. "We never made it to the restaurant." Janet frowned,   
  
staring at me. Then she sat back, frowned, shot her eyes wide in shock, put her hands   
  
to her mouth and finally emitted a piercing shriek of glee before jumping up off the   
  
desk and grabbing me, pulling me from my chair and dancing me forcibly around the   
  
room. I laughed and protested, finally pulling her to a stop.  
  
"Oh my god!" She whispered before squealing again. "So, what happened? Was it   
  
good? Is he…. Sam!" I was laughing at her eager questions.  
  
"Well, he saw me in the red dress, he lost all capacity to speak or even think   
  
coherently – or so he told me sometime this morning – and then, well, let's just say I   
  
found the dress this morning. In my lounge room, under the coffee table." I stopped,   
  
and knew she'd ask.  
  
"And the shoes?" Janet supplied the question just as I predicted. I grinned.  
  
"There was one on the light fixture in the hallway. I haven't found the other yet." I   
  
snickered, as I'd done this morning when I'd found the first of my shoes. Janet   
  
echoed me, and soon we were giggling like teenagers.  
  
"So I'm guessing for a first time, it was pretty spectacular?" Janet surmised. I felt a   
  
pang of guilt – neither of us had told anyone that things had gone beyond platonic   
  
almost a week ago, on our first date. It hadn't been a conscious decision, more like a   
  
desire to keep our new found relationship private, even if just for a while.  
  
"Ahh… It wasn't exactly a first time, Janet." I confessed.  
  
"What?! When?" Janet suddenly barked out, and I glanced up at her, seeing both   
  
anger and delight in her expression. Anger, I guessed, at not being told before.   
  
Delight that we were finally together.  
  
"Our first date, last weekend. Things just kinda … went really well." I knew I was   
  
grinning inanely, but couldn't seem to stop.  
  
"Really well?" Janet echoed.   
  
"Really well." I confirmed. "Amazingly well. Beyond all possible consideration   
  
well." I raised an eyebrow – Teal'c style – as if to ask 'do I need to expand?' Just   
  
before she answered my silent question, my phone rang. I picked it up without   
  
looking, rattling off my rank and surname quickly.  
  
"Hey, Sam." It was Jack. His voice sent a shiver down my spine. Which Janet   
  
noticed. I mouthed 'Jack' at her, and she nodded, grinned, then mouthed back at me   
  
'lunch?', where I nodded and mimed calling her. I knew that I'd get another drilling   
  
during our lunch, but that didn't stop me from agreeing. The opposite, in fact. I   
  
wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell everyone.  
  
"Hi, Jack. What's up?" I asked, knowing that he wouldn't have called me at work for   
  
no reason – not when I'd left his side less than half an hour ago, and we were meeting   
  
up again tonight to attempt another go at the restaurant.  
  
"Can you tell me why there's one of your black strappy shoe-things in the fridge?"   
  
-fin- 


	3. Take 3

I held the shoe in my hand, listening to Samantha Carter giggling over the telephone I   
  
held in my other hand.  
  
Samantha Carter. My – what? Significant other? Girlfriend? Main squeeze? Lover?   
  
All of the above, I finally decided.  
  
A part of me wanted to sigh and settle back to listen, content to dwell on the sound of   
  
her laughter. But that small part of me was shouted down by the beer-swilling, gun-  
  
toting, hockey-watching macho-man that was the rest of me. So I cleared my throat,   
  
getting her attention once again.  
  
"Sam?" I called her back to the conversation. "Do you know why your shoe is in the   
  
fridge?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure that's where it got thrown when you took it off my foot, Jack." She   
  
replied, snorting softly. I threw her shoe? Why don't I remember doing that? Oh   
  
yeah, the dress. Red Silk + Samantha Carter = lack of higher-brain function for me. I   
  
shrugged. I could deal with that equation.  
  
"Why did it get thrown in the fridge?" I put the shoe down on the counter and leant   
  
back on the stool, staring out the kitchen window into her backyard.  
  
"Because I was getting you a beer when you attacked me, Jack." Sam reminded me.   
  
Oh, right. Now I remembered. Sam was a woman who didn't drink beer all that   
  
often, but kept some in her fridge for visitors (read, the rest of SG-1 and now myself).   
  
So the beer was placed at the bottom of the fridge, out of the way. I'd followed her   
  
into the kitchen, watching those hips writhe inside that damn dress, fascinated. And   
  
then she'd bent down to get the beer. Bent right down.  
  
A guy can only take so much before he'll break.  
  
Next thing I remember, she was close to naked (can you count a near see-through   
  
garter belt and hose as dressed?) and I was doing a good impression of Buck (aka   
  
buck naked). And it was the first date all over again.   
  
Only a whole lot better.  
  
"Oh, yeah. I remember now." I replied to her comment. She sniggered back at me,   
  
and I knew her mind was replaying the same thing mine was – last night (and early   
  
this morning, and later this morning) all over again.  
  
"See you at 1900?" She prompted me, sounding ready to get back to work.  
  
"Sure. Do you want me to pick you up?" I stood up off the stool, grabbed the shoe   
  
and began walking back to the bedroom. As I did, I heard her chuckle, and the laugh   
  
had an evil edge to it.  
  
"No. I'll meet you there. That way we have to at least sit down and eat before you   
  
attack me again. Hopefully." She sniggered again, and I laughed back at her.  
  
"Okay, then. See ya, Carter. Crap. Sam." It happened now and then. Her surname   
  
just popped out, without me even realising until it was too late.  
  
"It's okay, Jack. I don't mind you calling me Carter still." She reassured me. "Bye,   
  
Jack. See you tonight." She hung up gently, and the phone went dead in my ear. I   
  
dropped the shoe near her cupboard, picked up my wallet and keys and locked her   
  
door before leaving her house.  
  
-o0o-  
  
On the risk of sounding like a complete sap:  
  
First date? Un-freaking-believable.   
  
Second date? Fantasy's are made from that stuff. No, fantasy doesn't even come   
  
close.  
  
Third date? Heaven. Paradise. Nirvana. Bliss. Ecstasy. Cloud nine. Rapture.  
  
Our last words before falling asleep last night? "I love you." At the same time, in   
  
the same breath. I gave her the three words she wanted, and took them back. How   
  
cool was that? How right was that?  
  
Damn – I am a complete sap. I brushed her hair back with one and and settled down   
  
to sleep once more with a shrug. Sap, S.N.A.G, romantic – hell, who cared. I had   
  
Sam Carter in my arms, in my bed. And I knew where her mole was.  
  
NOTHING could be better than this.  
  
-fin- 


End file.
